Seven at Sea
by Ship's Cat
Summary: At the mercy of the elements, facing off with desperate criminals, or just not playing well with others. The men of the Seaview take on the Magnificent Seven!
1. Chapter 1

**SEVEN AT SEA**

 **by**

 **Gail Pearson**

 _Author's Note:_ _This is based on the Magnificent Seven television show and is set in the Alternate Universe of ATF in which the seven are agents for Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms agency. There are references to my Voyage to the Bottom of Sea story, The Long Way Home, and one memorable character from there makes a comeback. Of course, how can I write a Voyage story without my favorite character, the Ship's Cat, to whom I owe much, including my pen name, and a household full of cat toys and cat hair. CD, the inspiration for the Ship's Cat has sadly passed to that great catnip in the sky, at the ripe old age of 18! She has been replaced by two rescue cats, Salt and computer program designed to trace where dumped cargoes come from, exists. I saw a program about it on Discovery Channel. It was an inspiration for this story, among other things._

 **Think or Thwim**

It was an old Coast Guard Cutter disguised to look like a smuggler's boat disguised as a Coast Guard Cutter. It's crew were law enforcement agents disguised to look as smugglers disguised as a Coast Guard crew. A likely enough scenario and one that would had fooled the real criminals who were smuggling drugs and arms from the US to an off shore buyer. At least it would have, if they ever got to the rendevous point.

But, nature had other ideas and a sudden shift in air currents and a lazy meandering of a cold front invading the territory of a hot front caused a little swirl of air currents that blew themselves up into a storm - hurricane Adam.. As a hurricane, it wasn't too strong and it ambled itself in little tight circles in the ocean area between Mexico, Florida, and Texas, never really threatening land and raising just a little hell and water on some unattractive bits and pieces of land that survived the really big storms. Just before it blew itself out, it did one little piece of damage. It sank the disguised cutter.

"Chris!" Buck Wilmington shouted in his boss' ear over the din of the storm. "We're taking on more water than the pumps can throw out! Even pumping by hand ain't gonna keep her afloat!"

Chris Larabee, head of the ATF team known as the Magnificent Seven grunted as he wrestled with the wheel of the foundering cutter. This job had seemed a natural for Team 7, with him and Buck as ex-Seals, Ezra Standish's and J.D. Dunne's sailing experiences and the rest of the team assuring him of their immunity to seasickness. This was hardly a casual fishing trip, it was becoming a nightmare.

"Okay Buck, break out the zodiac, we'll have to abandon ship!" Larabee shouted over the noise of the storm. Buck grinned and shot him a cheeky salute.

Haste was undignified, yet haste seemed to be in order as the ship lurched and shuddered in the most uncomfortable way. Ezra Standish considered himself a fair sailor and yachtsman, but this sinking tub lacked finesse. Nathan Jackson's calm but urgent hand on his shoulder expedited their leaving the noisome little cabin. On reaching the tilting slippery deck they could see that Larabee and the rest were boarding the zodiac. No attempt was being made to stay aboard the doomed ship.

Standish was making his way across the listing, slick deck when a piece of stressed rope broke with a snap and whipped itself across his neck. It was no more than a light piece of line, but with the wet and the wind it stung like a wet snapped towel. Suddenly, unable to breathe, Standish stopped dead. Jackson, hard on his heels, ran into him and grabbed him with one hand around his waist, the other unsuccessfully looking for a handhold. It was just a slight shift in the sinking boat and the inopportune wave that crashed over the scuppers. One moment Ezra and Nathan were on the deck, the next they were gone, swallowed by a great wash of water. Chris Larabee stared in shock at the empty surging seas for a split second and then, realizing his own immediate peril, jumped into the raft. They would have to put some distance between themselves and the sinking ship. Maybe they could then find Ez and Nathan... though Larabee knew that those chances were slim in the teeth of the storm. The two men's lives hung on the lifevests they were wearing, and the mercy of a merciless sea.

"Let's go!" He yelled over the din of the storm.

"Where's Ez and Nathan?" J.D. asked worriedly, looking around the cramped zodiac. Larabee didn't answer, but started rowing with Buck. He glanced at his companions. Vin was staring at the boat sinking and foundering in the waves.

"Jeezus Chris! Why did you leave them?" He pulled on Larabee's arm. Chris shoved him away.

"They're gone. And we gotta get rowing if we are going to make it."

It was just as well that he still couldn't take in a breath, as they were immediately overwhelmed by a hard wall of icy cold water. Ezra was only marginally aware of something dragging him to the roiling surface.

Nathan Jackson retained a death grip on the southerner, later he would proclaim self-preservation, but his foremost thought was not to loose his teammate. One heart stopping moment they were wrenched apart by the waves and then just as casually slammed back together. In a moment of inspiration, Jackson handcuffed the two of them together by their life jackets.

The next hours were undescribable. They near drowned again, and again, and again. Each breath that took in air, spit out water. Did the storm last an hour, two? A lifetime?

Nathan Jackson woke up to the sound of waves. Something was bumping up against his shoulder with insistence.

" 'Athaaan. Waaage ub." A strange voice muttered strange words.

"Huh?" His eyes seemed to be crusted shut with salt and crud. He pried them apart to stare at the extremely disheveled creature that was pawing at his arm. To say that his own mother wouldn't recognize him would be mild. If had hadn't handcuffed himself to Ezra Standish himself he would have guessed that a sea creature was now his companion.

Bulky life vests were a far cry from tailored suits. The man's hair was standing on end in about fifteen different directions. His eyes were little red pouches inside black pits and his skin was a sickly greenish white where it wasn't bleeding or bruised. He held his head awkwardly at an angle exposing a very nasty red slash mark surrounded by swelling.

"Wherre aw we?" The words were half whispered half croaked.

"In the middle of the ocean. You look like hell."Nathan managed a grin. Heck they were alive. Chris and the others would be looking for them.

"You oo too." Ezra's grin was cut off by a wince as his hand went to his throat.

"Uh uh. Don't touch. Let me look." Nathan noticed one good thing about being cuffed by the life vests together, Ezra wasn't going anywhere without him, no matter how much he

backpedalled.


	2. Chapter 2

**Somewhere in the Same Sea**

Captain Robert O'Brian eyed his crew with a stern eye. They looked to him with hope in their eyes. He stood on the deck oozing authority, countenence of steel, drinking in the silent respect from the grateful crew.

"Sir! I have a surface contact, bearing 064 point 5."Kowalski's voice interrupted Lt.O'Brian's happy daydream.

"Let's see sailor." He said his voice dropped a few octaves to indicate maturity, though it sounded as if he was recovering from a bad cold. With the Admiral and the Captain gone for half a day, he and Morton were splitting the command watches. He got time on the bridge, the Skipper and Exec saw to it, but they were always there hanging around. And trying to impress the Admiral with cool efficiency was almost impossible. So, he was enjoying the little time he had to really be "the Captain".

"What do you think Ski?" O'Brian knew that the sonar man had an almost magical affinity for his work and could read the blips like other people read comics.

"I would guess a raft of some sorts, sir. Picks up like a Corsair or a Zodiac."

"Sparks? Been any radio traffic?" Bobby O'Brian crossed his arms and tried a Chip Morton stance.

"No distress calls sir, but the peeps have been making noises about some smuggling activity."

"Coast Guard." Bobby reminded him, calling their lesser brethren 'peeps' was not polite.

Sparks grimaced, he'd short sheet Bobby or put egg shells in his shoes for that last cut. Give a man a little power and he went beserk. Good thing he was around to keep his roommate and fellow officer in line.

"Let's have a look. Up scope."

The crew marginally relaxed as Lt. O'Brian stopped playing Captain Queeg and became his own self.

The seas were still running a bit high from the storm which is why they were running submerged, but he could see a raft in sight.

"Let's take her in a bit closer. I want to have a good look at them before letting them know we're here."

It was on the tip of Sparks tongue to advise calling for Morton, but he had to give Bobby a little slack, even if he did act like an ass occasionally.

"Heading 063 and take her in slow." He kept his eyes glued to the periscope until they were within range for the sensitive cameras to pick up.

"Let's have a look at them, turn on for'ard camera and give me magnification four."

"Geez, they don't look like any fishing crew I've ever seen." Patterson blurted. "Are they fighting each other?"

"Looks like it." Bobby felt a rush of adrenalin hit his belly. He picked up the mike. "Security detail to the bridge." He looked around at the crew. "We'll take them on, but I want you all to be on your toes. Ah, Sparks, let sickbay know we are picking up people in a raft. Might be some injuries or exposure." He took a deep breath and looked at the mike. Should he call Morton? Or handle it. Surely the XO didn't call the Captain every time something happened. Of course the Captain showed up anyway, he always knew when something was going on.

"Okay." He said as the security detail showed up gratifingly armed to the teeth. "We are picking up five men in a raft. They show strange behavior so at the hint of any trouble we take them down."

The security team grinned, they lived for this sort of thing. Ghosts and sea monsters weren't in their training, but this was going to be a piece of cake.


	3. Chapter 3

**Five Men in a Four Man Raft**

"Quitcher shovin' Buck." JD said irritably and shoved back.  
The hours spent in the cramped raft had been wet and miserable. The storm had tossed them around unmercilessly. In the vague hope that they would spot their lost teammates, the raft cover had been left off. This meant that bailing while holding on for dear life was necessary. Talking or even shouting wasn't possible and every man was sunk in his own cold misery worrying over Ezra and Nathan. By the time the storm had died down enough for bailing to stop and cramped fingers pried away from ropes and handles, everyone was in a foul mood.

"I ain't shovin'. Get on your own side of the seat." Buck glared at the young man.

"Shut up." Chris growled. He rotated his shoulders experimentally. Lord he was tired and those two started bickering the moment the wind wasn't any competition for moaning.

Vin shot a look at Chris that spoke volumes.

"You too, dammit!" He tried to glare, but his eyes wouldn't focus too well.

"We mustn't give up hope." Josiah began.

"We ain't givin' up! Or at least I'm not!" JD snarled and gave Buck a shove to accent his feelings. A general shoving match broke out which threatened to dump the raft over which even the storm hadn't be able to do.

"Watch it!" Vin shouted.

"Sit down, dammit!" Larabee tried to yell. The raft began to pitch and bounce even more.

"Aw hell, it ain't us!" Buck said looking around wildly.

"Sharks?"Vin looked like he was ready to go a few rounds with a shark. Sure easier than trying to take a bite of Chris Larabee in his foul mood.

The large gray bulk of a massive ship was suddenly not only before them, but under them. The raft was raised high and dry out of the water and on the deck.

"Holy..." Buck breathed.

"Amen." Josiah intoned.

Their wonder was cut short as within seconds a group of men armed to the teeth had them at gun point.

"Nice and easy and nothing's going to happen." One of the men said and tilted his head and not his weapon to show that they were to get out of the raft.

Chris nodded. Despite their weariness, and picking on one another, they silently took up a defensive posture. Their attitude was not wasted on the security detail who immediately began to close ranks around the men as they hustled them through a door and down a steep ladder.

The crew did no more than spare a quick glance at the newcomers, showing a quiet efficiency and trust in the security team.

"Hands up where we can see them." The young blond looked no older than JD and acted with the same youthful courage and enthusiasm that Team 7 experienced with their youngest member.

"Mr. O'Brian?"Riley asked. He got them here, now it was up to the lieutenant to decide what to do with them.

"Take her down to cruise depth." Bobby O'Brian spared a glance for his visitors. These weren't fishermen. They had a toughness about them that spelled trouble.

"I have two men in life vests out there." Larabee interrupted the officer, the very junior officer he noted. "We lost them at 16:00 yesterday just ten miles off Key Largo. We need to get search and rescue on it."

"Sparks?" O'Brian turned to his radioman.

"Ah'm on it, sir. Shall I..."

O'Brian interrupted the sentence."Give a call."

"Aye sir."

Nobody sighed in relief, wouldn't be fair in front of dubious strangers.

"Nice little pigboat ya got here." Buck said casually, his arms lowering slightly as he made a slight motion to his right. At the same time JD made a move to his left giving them more space to spread out.

"Any injuries?" A corpsman spoke up from behind the armed security detachment.

"This isn't a 'pigboat' mister." Bobby said frostily. "You are aboard a nuclear submarine."

"250 feet sir." The helmsman called out.

"Take her down to 300, let's get out of this turbulence." He gave the orders efficiently while keeping a wary eye on the five scruffy men.

"Submarine? Unnerwater. We unner water?" Vin Tanner looked around wildly.

"Easy junior." Buck began.

"Vin!" Chris spoke sharply hoping to calm his friend. This was a hell of time for his claustrophobia to kick in.

"Report!" Morton was on the bridge. There was no trace of him just having been pulled from his bed. There were rumours among the crew that he slept in a clothes press so he could show up freshly pressed and not a hair out of place within minutes.

Chris Larabee stiffened instinctively with the entrance of the officer. This wasn't an impressionable junior officer unsure of himself. His eyes narrowed and a lip curled unconsciously in a snarl. His cold stare was met with an equally cold and measuring look. The Larabee glare met the Morton glare. Cold fusion was imminent.

Vin Tanner could see the water rushing into the sub...he didn't realize that he was looking through the bow windows. He wasn't expecting windows on a sub. Nobody does, that is one of the things makes the Seaview so impressive. He shuddered visibly. A funny sound he'd never made before erupted from his throat. It broke up the tableau. Chris saw the sheer terror on his friends face as did Morton.

"Claustrophobic?" He said quietly and motioned for the medic.

Chris nodded reluctantly and placed a firm hand on Vin's back. "It's okay Vin. We are safe here." It was more of a threat to the men holding weapons on them than a reassurance.

Things would have gone down smoothly except for Vin's hate of needles. He would have endured it under normal circumstances. This wasn't normal circumstances. His fist crashing against the medics jaw started the fight.

Phfttt. Phfttt. Phfttt. Phft. The weapons discharged gas powered darts. Within seconds four of the men were down on the deck succumbing to the powerful sleep darts.

Chris' last sight was the blond officer leaning over him and murmuring, "Illya was right, they work real quick." Then grayness took over.

Vin Tanner forgot his fears when he saw his friends overcome and taken down. It took three men and needle forcibly injected into his biceps to get him calmed down. Or at least sedated to the state of immobility. That didn't stop him from growling epithets and genealogical slurs against the men holding him.

"Get these men down to the brig." Morton snapped to O'Brian.

Bobby eyed the bulk of the older man. This was going to be fun bouncing this one down the flight of stairs to the brig.


	4. Chapter 4

**Someone Familiar?**

They had been floating for hours, dipping and moving with the swells and waves.

Both were tired and tormented by thirst and uncertainty of their situation and that of their friends.

Nathan worried silently about the southerner's injury. There seemed to be nothing broken, but there was a lot of internal bleeding in the area and if it swelled up Ezra's breathing could be impaired. He'd admonished him not to talk, but that was like asking a monkey not to scratch.

"Ah saaaw somfin..."Standish turned sluggishly his whole body pulling Nathan with him.

"A fin?!" Nathan felt the blood rush from his face.

"Tell me Nathan." Ezra said in his harsh whisper. "D'ya fink sharks like white meat or dark?"

"Oh shut up Ez." Nathan splashed the man, but managed to grin through split lips. "White, I hope."

"Me too." Standish breathed almost silently and began to peer hopefully at the horizon.

"Shut up." This time Nathan meant it. "You ain't in any condition to speak." Nevertheless he too began to look around nervously. "Hey, you are right! I see something too. But it looks like a boat!" With only a glance towards one another the men began a frantic crawl towards what might be rescue.

****

"Hijo de Madre!" Paco the Smuggler swore with feeling. Here he was on the verge of his first good break in a long time. His cousin Raouf had arranged for him to do some real smuggling, for real money. No more penny ante stuff with fake Marlboros and counterfeit Finlandia vodka from Russian sailors. He was going to running guns and drugs! With a cartel from Bogota no less! He'd dumped his silent assistant, Pedro, and was going to hog all the glory and Yankee dollars for himself. But it was Pedro who had kept the engines running and now his boat was lying dead in the water, the motors swamped in the recent storm. He was late for the rendevous. Things were not looking good. He gave the motor a swift kick and swore again.

****  
Admiral Nelson and Captain Crane had returned to the Seaview to find four men in the brig and one in sickbay. Smugglers had been the considered opinion from O'Brian. Morton was more reserved and had done some checking with the Coast Guard. The Peeps had been reluctant, but did say that an ATF team was overdue for a radio check.

"Well, well, well...don't you look natural in that brig." Lee Crane said sternly eyeing the scruffy looking lot crammed into the little cell.

"Crane!" Larabee spat out.

"That's Captain Crane to you." He replied tightly. Riley, behind him hefted his rifle threateningly.

"Figgered you'd end up on a garbage scow." Buck cut in.

"Haven't you gotten rid of him yet?" Lee nodded to Buck who was fuming.

Chris shrugged. "You gonna let us out. I got two men to find."

Crane gestured to Riley to open the cell door. He did cautiously. The Skipper seemed to know these guys, but didn't seem too friendly.

The leader of Team 7 and the Captain of the Seaview eyed each other and then their hands reached out in a strong clasp.

"Hell of a spot for a reunion." Buck said grinning as he gave the Captain a none too gentle shove on the shoulder.

"I agree!" Crane said and smiled. "What has it been - ten years?"

"You know each other?" JD broke in and tried a glare at Riley.

"We met at SEAL training." Chris explained.

"Friendly rivals." Lee said and both men grinned toothily, the kind of look that two Alpha males give each other on a piece of turf only big enough for one.


	5. Chapter 5

**Saved?**

They redoubled their efforts as they approached the bobbing boat. It seemed to be a small fishing vessel as there were nets on the deck. Nathan had tried yelling, but had no response. He saved his breath for swimming. He could hear Ezra begin to wheeze next to him.

"Easy." Nathan himself puffed. "Just - a bit - closer."

Nathan's relief when touching the hull of the boat was tempered by the condition of Ezra Standish. "I'm going to boost you into the boat. Okay?" Nathan began to untie the life vest. They were still hooked together with the cuffs and he couldn't get them both up at the same time.

Ezra only nodded slightly his breath was coming in shallow gulps. He was beyond thought. All he could think about was breathing and the stabbing pain in his throat that came with every exhale.

Paco may not have been a mechanic, but he'd been smuggling contraband on his boat for years and knew when the boat rocked slightly that he had company. Uninvited company. He pulled the gun he had bought in Tijuana last year from his trousers. It was more to impress his new partners as he wasn't sure if it was loaded or not. He was more at home with a knife or a club.

He stealthily crept onto the deck, crumpled about midships next to the small cabin was a man in a bright fluorescent life jacket. He nudged him with his toe.

"Hei, seńor?" He nudged him again harder and was unprepared for the hands grabbing his ankle and knee and dumping on his back. The gun went flying over the side and landed with a plop in the water. Paco grinned and reached for his knife. He found a strong arm around his throat and a deep menacing voice in his ear.

"Do it and you're a dead man."Nathan snarled in his ear.

"Hey man...I was jes bein' careful. Can't be too careful, eh? Might be smugglers 'roun here." Paco squirmed helplessly.

Nathan's eyes met that of Ezra's. This had to be played carefully. It was usually the role of the smooth-talking southerner to wangle the truth out of slippery characters like this one, but he was incapacitated. It was up to Nathan.

Nathan tightened his grip. "Whatchou mean- smugglers?" He tried his Richard Roundtree impersonation.

"I mean...there could be. My cousin Raouf, he tole me that there could be smugglers in these waters." A deaf man could have picked up on the inference. Ezra squirmed on the deck his mouth opening an closing like a gaping fish. Surely Nathan would pick up on the clues? If only he could talk, but breathing was such a chore now.

"Raouf? Dat scumbag? That no-good piece of trash? He told you?"

"Yeah, man." Paco said nervously. "I'm Paco. I was to meet up wich you guys and take the stuff to a place I know in Texas."

Nathan let his grip ease a bit. "You and who else?"

"I'm on my own. I swear on the grave of my sainted mother." Paco babbled.

Ezra raised an eyebrow.

"Yo mutha ain't ded, but you will be iffen you don' tell us the truf." Nathan wasn't sure if Ezra had passed out from his injuries or had merely closed his eyes to the awful dialect Nathan was using.

"Oh, seńor. You are too smart for poor Paco. He will not lie anymore. But, I am alone."

Nathan let him go with a silent prayer of relief and glad that he'd joined the boys for watching Shaft on video last month. Rain had lectured him for days afterwards about perpetuating black stereotypes.

"Okay. I believes ya. Me and ma associate here will wait for the rest to join us." Nathan showed a lot a teeth in an ugly grin.

Paco rubbed his throat thoughtfully. He had a lot of questions, but these men looked rough. Raouf had warned him that they did things differently, so who was he to make waves?  
"You gotta radio?" Nathan stood protectively over Ezra who was still lying with his eyes closed.

"I am so sorry seńor. But no radio. The antenna went out in the storm." He smiled showing blackened stubs and nicotine-stained teeth. "I go fix the motor now. You seńors are welcome to my humble boat." He gestured expansively at the dirty scow.

"Hurry up about it, ya hear!" Nathan was getting warmed up in his role.

Paco scurried below. Nathan hauled Ezra to his feet and half carrying him took him into the noisome cabin. It smelled pretty bad and dirty linen and dishes were everywhere. Nathan was helping Ezra off with the life vest when he heard a strange noise from him, a sort of choking wheeze. He realized that the man was trying to laugh.

"Shut up Ezra. You'll make your throat worse." He carefully tilted Ezra's head back. The neck was badly swollen and inflamed. When he touched it, Ezra's hand snapped up and grabbed his wrist. He let go again almost immediately.

"Hurts that bad?" Nathan said carefully. "I won't touch it again." He was worried. It looked bad. "Can you swallow?"

The southerner swallowed like a man swallowing an elephant - whole. It was a painful and drawn out process.

"I want you to lie down now Ezra." Nathan eyed the bunk, God knows what infested it, but beggars can't be choosers. He put the life vest down and got the pale man lying down in a half reclining position. He found a large container of fresh water and after taking a long drink himself began to coax some down the gambler's throat. After a few painful swallows, Ezra pursed his lips indicating he couldn't swallow any more. Nathan then wet a rag that looked almost clean, and laid it across Ezra's throat gently, hoping to bring down the swelling.


	6. Chapter 6

**Computers and Cat**

"Hi there Chhrrisss." Vin giggled from his bunk in sickbay.

"How are ya feeling?" Larabee looked concerned at Tanner who was staring at him with glassy unfocused eyes.

"I FEEL great!" He giggled again.

Chris winced. They had him higher than a kite.

"Vin objected strenuously to the restraints." The doctor said picking up Tanner's wrist to check the pulse. "I hate drugging him, but I think restraints would have been more damaging."

"Don' wanna be tied up." Vin said owlishly. "Hate bein' tied up."

"I suppose so..." Chris growled. "But I think we can handle him if you let this wear off." He turned to look at Crane who had taken him to the sickbay to see Tanner.

"Chrissss'll take care of me. He and me are brothers. We are all broth..." Vin closed his eyes and began snoring.

"Doc?" Captain Crane glanced at his chief medical officer.

"He might be all right. He was aware enough to chose between a sedative and restraints. I think if you put him near the bow windows, he might feel better. Most of our guests who feel a bit confined find it beneficial." Dr. Jamieson explained. "You can come get him in about an hour."

"You always had a way with your men." Lee said shaking his head. "But that is a hell of a motley crew you have there."

"Wait until you meet Ezra and Nathan." Larabee sighed. "What is being done? Search planes out? You have that flying whatsit, don't you?" Chris rubbed the back of his neck.

"Oh we have a few tricks up our sleeves." Crane winced as Vin began a crescendo of snores. "Let's get you to the galley for some food and coffee and I'll fill you in on our search procedures."

"We are wasting time. Give me our raft back. We can go out looking for them."

"Look. I know how you feel. But this is no place to off half-cocked. You know that."

"They are my men, my friends, my family." Chris said hotly.

"You met my exec, Chip?" Lee looked Chris in the eye. "About a year ago, he fell overboard in high seas. We lost him. It is a long story, but he got himself back home. He's not only my XO, but my best friend. I know how you feel, and that is why we have some of the best search tools available on this boat. C'mon Morton already has the rest of your crew in the galley, and we have one of the finest chefs in the country cooking for us."

"This is a new computer program designed to track dumped cargo. It was first used to trace an influx of yellow plastic ducks that showed up in New Foundland about a year and a half ago. The computer checks on the prevailing weather conditions and tides and determines where the floating debris originated and then from there extrapolates the positions of possible vessels." Morton explained. "Ez and Nate aren't floating debris." Buck interrupted the officer's explanation.

"But they are free floating, even if they were swimming, the currents are strong enough to take them along a certain path." Morton's fingers began flying over the keyboard. JD edged in to stand over the officer intent on the computer action. "We know your last position so we just do a reversal of the program parameters..."

"Cool. A cyber fiber protocol." Dunne breathed in admiration.

Morton looked up in amazement at the young man and then glanced at the Admiral. "This isn't classified, perhaps would like to give me a hand?"

"Yes, certainly." Nelson waved a hand generally. Within a few moments the two had their heads together and were speaking bits and pieces of computerese, that was incomprehensible to anyone else.

Larabee turned to watch Josiah and Vin sitting next to the great bow windows. While the sharpshooter was no longer overcome by his claustrophobia, there was still a tense set to his shoulders and his face was more green than the reflected light from the water had a right to be. The profiler was talking gently to Vin, the low rumble of his voice a comforting drone against the beeps and pings that a working sub normally made.

He felt the hairs on the back of his head begin to crawl. Someone was watching him. Almost casually he turned his eyes scanning the control room. Men's eyes were glued to instruments. The XO and JD were consulting in enthusiastic low tones in computer gibberish. Buck was hovering nearby trying to look as if he understood them. The Admiral and the Captain were discussing course changes. No one was looking at him, but still...he rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"What's up?" Buck had given up and had noticed Chris' nervous behaviour.

"Nothing." Chris said flatly, he was just on the edge. He had his own trust in computers, but to find two men floating in a vast sea, it was pushing even his limits.

Then he saw her. One of the last things he expected to see on sub like the Seaview. She sat there cooly, her eyes never moved or blinked. She looked relaxed, but muscles were under the sleek outer layer. The lady owned him, him and his kind.

Josiah nudged Vin Tanner with an elbow, "Look there Vin. Something with a glare tougher than Chris'."

Vin grinned as Larabee and the female in black and white stared at each other, neither one willing to give ground. Larabee blinked, he was having a stare down with a cat! She casually turned her back on the man in black and with her tail held up straight up waltzed away with all the dignity a cat could have.

"Cat won." Vin whispered. "Ez would have loved to see that."

"Yes, he would." Josiah breathed and stared out into the dark roiling depths of the ocean hoping it wasn't Nathan's and Ezra's last resting place.


	7. Chapter 7

**Showdown**

Nathan laid the wet cloth across Ezra's neck. The swelling had finally gone down, but the abrasions were still red and angry.

"You just take it easy, Ez. You breathin better?"  
Standish nodded slightly which brought a wince of pain. He swallowed experimentally. Gawd it hurt even to swallow. His free hand grasped Nathan's arm in a convulsive grip his eyes questioning, begging.

"It feels like hell, Ez, but I think it's just soft tissue damage. You're going to be hurtin for a while, but I don't think it's permanent." He put a hand over the one on his arm. "And no, I ain't lying to you. But for now, you gotta let me do all the talkin', don't even try. If you start to bleed inside then we are in deep shit. Got it?!"

Standish cocked an eyebrow at Jackson as if to say 'You do the talking?'

"Is your fren' better senőr?" Paco had slid into the cabin almost noiselessly.

"Ya get dem engines workin?" Nathan rounded on the man with a snarl.

"I have found the problem senor, it will just take a little longer." Paco smiled revealing his dental nightmare. He was beginning to wonder about his visitors. His experience with Americanos was none too pleasant. There was that dog Felipé who had hijacked his boat just last year. He decided that the injured man was going to be no problem, but the big black man would maybe have to slip on the deck and accidentally fall overboard. His grin got wider at the thought.

When he left, Nathan's and Ezra's eyes met in a mutual agreement of mistrust. Nathan nodded.

****

Chris Larabee didn't have an over fertile imagination. He was a man of facts, of extrapolation, cunning, and a gut feeling that he'd learned to trust over the years. Yet, here he was on the most powerful technically advanced submarine in the world forced to watch a computer geek find his men. Not even a search fly by in the flying submarine would be done. He seethed.

Buck Wilmington watched the potential volcano bubble and brew. He shot a glance towards Vin Tanner, hoping that the sharpshooter would be a calming influence, but Vin was still fighting his own battles with claustrophobia. Josiah's calm influence was only thing keeping him nailed to the deck. JD and the XO were deep into their computer programs and were probably exchanging microchips already. It was up to him to calm Chris.

Unfortunately, Captain Crane had also noticed the storm brewing.

"You might want to take it down a notch, Larabee." Lee Crane commented as Chris paced between the plotting table and the bow doors.

"Is that an order, Captain?"

"If it has to be." Crane responded coolly.

This seemed to further infuriate an already edgy Chris Larabee. He and Crane had had a grudging admiration for each other, both were good leaders, competent men. But they had a hard time getting along. Maybe because they were so much alike, maybe because they were so different.

The air in the room seemed to thicken with the tension. If this had been a hundred years ago, the two men would have been facing each other in the street of a dusty western town. A merciless sun would be beating down. Eyes would be narrowed and looking for a sign of weakness, a hand reaching for a gun hanging low on the hip.

"At ease!" Nelson's authoritative bark cut across the two men's antagonism like a whip. Both recognized the command and went back to their own sides of the control room - reluctantly.

Buck Wilmington's eyes met that of Morton's in tacit agreement to keep their bosses from each other's throats.

"We got it!" JD's announcement was nothing less than providential.

Within moments Larabee and Crane had their heads together over the plotting table setting a course that would hopefully lead them to two men in the middle of the ocean.

"Now you'll see the Seaview at her best." Crane said. "Course 34 mark 2 and full flank!"

The mighty submarine lunged forwards smoothly the boiling of the water at the bow windows became a smooth flow like knife cutting through butter.

"How long?" Larabee was leaning forwards as if urging Seaview on to greater speed.

"At full flank about 35 minutes."

"Just be there..."Chris said softly.

"Amen." Crane repeated just as softly as their eyes met with hope and anticipation.

****

Nathan Jackson was worried. Standish had finally fallen into an uneasy sleep. His breath was alarmingly irregular and there seemed to be a blue tinge around the man's lips that indicated a lack of oxygen getting into the blood stream. It was a toss-up to damage the throat or have Ezra die of dehydration from a lack of water. Nathan would kill for bag of Ringers or even in the worse case scenario a decent tracheomtomy kit. It wasn't the first time he'd had to improvise, but their shipmate was hardly the type to be helpful. The boat began to rock slightly from side to side. Alarmed at the unusual motion Nathan went out of the cabin to investigate.

Paco didn't underestimate his opponent. He was much bigger and certainly more of the ruthless type. He didn't have any delusions that if he didn't strike quick and from behind his chances of coming out alive were not good. Counting on the man to be wary he set the boat to rocking slowly and climbed onto the roof of the cabin. As soon he was in a good position he would jump on the black man and knock him unconcious with a belaying pin. Then dump the body overboard. His hurt friend then would follow.

The unusual movement of the boat woke him. Instinct put him on alert. He wasn't in a safe place. Nathan! Nathan wasn't there. Something creaked overhead that shouldn't creak. He was on his feet before his head registered the change of attitude, washing a black mist over him. He swallowed and wished he hadn't. It was like there was a razor blade in his throat. The slight creak had moved. It was confusing. Where was Nathan? He staggered out onto the deck and caught sight of Nathan slipping around to the stern of the ship. He looked up and saw the Mexican preparing to leap upon the unsuspecting man.

"N- N- ath!" As a yell it was pitiful, but it warned the black man just as Paco jumped at him from the roof swinging his belaying pin. It bounced off Jackson's shoulder instead of his head. Had it landed his head would have busted open like a melon.

It was not a good idea to underestimate Nathan Jackson, under his mild appearing demeanor and caring soul was the heart of tiger and an anger that once lit was harder to calm down than any of his team mates. His first hit to Paco would have been sufficient, but several more followed, beating the cowardly Mexican smuggler into a bloody mess. He stood breathing heavily over the twisted body of his victim relishing the letting of blood. It was only the barest whisper of sound, but it was one that snapped his head up to look into the face of his friend Ezra Standish. Standish was leaning on the cabin door his face twisted with horror. It wasn't until the thin thread of blood appeared at the side of the man's mouth that Nathan realized what Standish had done. He stepped over the body of the Mexican and caught his friend as he fell.

"Aw Ez, you shouldn't have." Nathan held the Southerner tight in his arms as the thread of blood became a stream. Ezra Standish would end up drowning, after all, in his own blood. Nathan rocked him in his arms holding him close. Neither man noticed that the small boat began to pitch frantically as something began to disturb the waters around it.

"I'm sorry Ez. I'm sorry. God, I'm sorry." Nathan mourned, tears streaking his face.

Over his shoulder, Ezra Standish's last fading sight before his oxygen starved brain shut down was that of a large whale was moving towards them. His brain had a last whimsicle thought that "Free Willy" was going to escort him to the next world.


End file.
